


Worth It

by ren (renegadewriter)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Parenthood, Prowl is a Carrier, Warbler is his Sparkling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegadewriter/pseuds/ren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed that nothing would go his way today, and his youngling wasn't helping. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [femme4jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme4jack/gifts).



> Wrote this in 2011 as a gift fic for femme4jack over at LJ =)

Prowl woke to the sound of crying. For a moment, he was lost in the haze between recharge and consciousness, the crying a far away, muted blurb of sound. As his systems onlined completely, he let out a sigh. A quick check to his chronometer showed him it was three o'clock in the morning; he had recharged less than two hours.

He was about to nudge Jazz to go see to their youngling but quickly remembered that his bondmate was gone on a long mission; their bond blocked so there were no distractions. Groaning, the tactician got up, his body feeling extremely heavy in his exhausted state.

"What's wrong Warbler?" Prowl asked entering his creation's room, sitting next to the youngling's berth and gathering the whimpering youngling in his arms, soothingly running a servo up and down his back.

"N- nightmare!" Cried the silver mechling clutching unto Prowl, spark trying to find the reassurance that he was safe in his carrier's bond.

"Shh, sleep, you're safe here. Shhh" Prowl said, voice laced with static. He started rocking Warbler back and forth, humming a lullaby Jazz had taught him which the youngling loved.

It took some minutes, but after a few breems the crying decreased to simple sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Caressing the youngling's back, he eventually fell into recharge, vents cycling softly and peacefully.

Prowl let out a relived sigh, his optics almost white in exhaustion, optic covers feeling heavy. The poor tactician didn't even have the energy to lift his doorwings even if he wanted to.

Kissing the youngling's forehead, Prowl carefully laid him back down on the berth, covering the small frame with the blankets. He started when a small servo grabbed his wrist in a death grip. Looking at his creation's faceplates, his spark sank at the teary optics and trembling lips; it appeared he would get no recharge that night either.

 

**000000000000**

 

Prowl walked down the hall unseeing. If he had been awake enough to care, he would have wondered why everyone was looking at him like he was a figure right out of some human horror movie. As it was, he really couldn't give a frag.

His day so far had been filled with disaster, not only had he been awakened from a two hour recharge, after almost a week of not being able to recharge properly, by his creation having a nightmare, but he had been forced to stay awake until he calmed down and managed to slip back into recharge. The few minutes of charge he had gotten after that had been done in a very uncomfortable position, as Warbler would not let go of his servo and Prowl was loath to distress his creation by leaving.

It was because of that that he now had a very painful kink in his neck, his doorwings were stiff and the hinges ached. He'd gone to Ratchet, who had refused to show any kind of sympathy toward his plight, as the medic blamed him for working too much and not getting enough recharge, and only received very mild painkillers.

Of course, having his bondmate away for a week, and possibly two to three more days, long mission was not helping his mood. Not only was he left with having to deal with Jazz's paper work along with own, but every bot on the Ark was suddenly busy with this or that. They were all either on a mission, on shift, enjoying their free time running around the city, or in the med bay (courtesy of a sparring gone wrong and a cranky medic that had decided to stasis lock them all for the rest of day so he could have some 'quiet time'), leaving the poor doorwinger sparkling-sitter-less. 

Warbler, having received sufficient recharge time, did not seem inclined to help him, as he ran (and fell; he still hadn't gained enough balance to walk properly, much less run; proving he was Jazz's creation with his stubbornness), causing him to cry every five steps. Every time, Prowl would hug and sooth him until he stopped crying and demanded to be let down; and the cycle started again. It took the tactician thirty minutes to get from the med bay to his office, and by the time he arrived the painkillers had worn out and his wings ached like the pit.

Still, there was nothing he could do but sit down and work. The humans were really demanding too much of them; with asking for information on their species, weapons, medicine, and Prowl working on loop-holes so they wound't have to give them any of this information for fear of being used against them, he had enough work to last him a life time. And that was not including the secret missions the Autobots took and tending to their own needs, schedules and working on tactical plans for future needs in which he had to study city maps, what materials they needed for the med bay, studying Decepticon sightings reports, etc.

He was thankfully torn from his thoughts by a beep in his monitor. Checking it, he received an encrypted file, one that didn't take him long to decipher. It was from Jazz, his mate would be coming home that night.

_'Oh thanks Primus'_. He thought, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. Another message told him that Prime would be arriving from his meeting at the U.N in the morning.

_'Finally something going right. '_  

Yet, life proved to hate him as he heard a small crash, followed by the distressed cries of his youngling.

"Warbler!" The silver sparkling had been trying to climb onto a chair that was too big for him, having been made for large bots like Optimus or Ironhide, only to fall backwards and hit his head, hard. Thank Primus he didn't have doorwings, that would have been torture. 

Abandoning everything on his desk, the tactician rushed to gather his creation in his arms, rocking him back and forth. 

"Shh, shh it's okay, only a small bump on the head." He tried to sooth as he paced from one end of the room to the other, sending love and comfort over their bond; emotions Warbler seemed to reject in his moment of pain as he kept on crying, flailing his arms and hitting Prowl.

"Hurts!" He yelled in between sobs. "Hurts lots!" 

"I know, I know. Sshh calm down, you'll only upset yourself more. Now, now, no more crying." The tactician was becoming desperate as the cries turned into a full out temper tantrum. "It really is okay see? Not even a drop of energon." That only made the youngling cry harder. 

There was a ping to the communicator in his door. 

\-- Ah Prowl, sir? Everything alright in there?-- Came Bumblebee's concerned voice. 

"Everything is fine!" He yelled back, his desperation growing as he failed to calm down his youngling.

\-- If you're sure.-- Came the not so sure voice of the OPs mech. 

 _'Oh I'm not sure.'_ Prowl thought grimly.  

Maybe the fall had done some internal damage he wasn't aware of that was causing Warbler pain, and thus, his crying? 

::Ratchet!:: He com-ed frantically. 

:: Now what Pro-:: 

::It's Warbler! I don't know what's wrong!:: 

The medic went silent for a while, he could hear the crying through Prowl's com-link and frowned; it wasn't like the youngling had never thrown a tantrum before, but it was usually Jazz who managed to calm the youngling. Obviously Prowl didn't have too much experience in that department, not for the lack for trying. 

:: I'm sure his tantrum will pass.::

::I'm not sure if it is a tantrum! He hit his head pretty hard!::

::What!? Why didn't you say so in the first place you slagging scrap-heap! I'll be right there!:: 

The com-link was cut off abruptly and Prowl continued to rock the youngling back and forth. 

"Please Warbler calm down!" He begged. "What is wrong?"

"Sire! Want sire!!" He yelled, making Prowl's spark ache. Wasn't  _he_ good enough? He sighed defeated; sometimes Prowl thought he had never been meant to be a carrier, specially when Warbler would prefer Jazz over him in times of pain and distress. What had he done wrong this time? Oh how he wished his and Jazz's bond were open to seek guidance and reassurance. Stupid secret missions!

"Alright! I'm here!" The medic burst into the office, putting his med kit on the desk and taking Warbler from Prowl's arms. 

To both's surprise, the youngling stopped crying at once, and snuggled into Ratchet's arms. 

"Er-" The medic said intelligently, shifting uncomfortably before sitting the youngling in the oversized chair. "Okay, I love you too, now let's check that head injury of your." He said almost softly, something that would have made Prowl's jaw drop in disbelief if he hadn't been so hurt by the fact that his youngling preferred Ratchet over him. 

A few awkward seconds passed as the medic ran his scanner over the sniffling youngling. 

"Well, nothing was damaged. Like I said, it was simply a tantrum."

Prowl nodded tightly, doorwings stiff.

"Would you mind watching Warbler for a few hours?" He asked neutrally. 

"Prowl-" 

"Please Ratchet, I have too much work to do and I can't watch Warbler all the time." 

The medic took in the doorwinger's stiff yet obviously tired posture, the dimness of his optics and the trembling of his doorwings. The mech was exhausted, if the pleading hadn't been any indication. The medic cursed Prime for how much work he was making the doorwinger do, and he cursed Jazz for volunteering for that mission! He regretted not showing the tactician some sympathy that morning. 

"Alright Prowl, I'll watch him. But I want you back in your quarters after this shift ends and in recharge before the night shift starts are we clear!?" He demanded. 

Prowl sighed, obviously stressed and Ratchet knew right then that the Praxian _would_ go to his quarters at the end of his shift, but he'd take his work with him and probably miss on recharge. Again. Prime was in for a looooong talk when he came back.  

"Crystal." 

"Don't get smart with me!" He snapped reflexively before grabbing Warbler and leaving the office. 

Once the two mechs were gone, Prowl threw himself in his chair and went straight to work, ignoring the hurt in his spark at Warbler's reaction.

 

**0000000000**

 

"Warbler stop moving!" Demanded Prowl as he tried to wash off the grime the youngling had gathered by playing on the floor. He had finally, _finally_ gotten off shift, and even though he had tons of reports left to do he was glad to leave his office.  

The silver mechling giggled and splashed at the water. "Bubbles!" He cried happily. 

"No. No bubbles today. Just a quick wash and then I'll give you some paint and paper so you can paint. I need to wor-" 

"Bubbles!" Demanded the youngling, splashing angrily at the warm water.  

"No." 

"Bubbles pweas?"

"No." 

"BUBBLES!!!!"  

Prowl whined in distress at the second temper tantrum of the day as his creation splashed the water everywhere and screamed at the top of his vocalizer.  

Sighing, the tactician kept washing the youngling, ignoring the fit and keeping his frustration in. 

The screaming continued all the way until the end of the bath, as Prowl dried him, and even after he had put the youngling down and left the washracks to prepare his energon.

 

**000000000000000**

  

"Warbler, please eat." He didn't care that he was outright begging. He really had to finish those reports if he wanted to get _some_ sort of decent recharge. At the moment he was half hoping for a processor crash, but he didn't want to scare his creation. Suddenly seeing his carrier fall unmoving to the ground was bound to traumatize the mechling. 

"No! Seeker!"  

"Seeker?" 

"Seeker!" 

 _'Seeker? Oh... OH!'_ Jazz would always play with Warbler, holding the spoon with the energon pretending it was a seeker, making noises until finally Warbler ate it. Jazz found it amusing, Warbler found it hilarious, but Prowl found it disturbing. He wondered how Starscream would react if he knew they were feeding their youngling with his trine?  

"No Seeker tonight Warbler, please eat I really need to work."  

"No Seeker?" 

"No Seeker." 

Warbler pouted and then seemed lost in thought. For a moment Prowl tensed getting ready for the third tantrum of the day. 

"Mini-bot?"

He really had to talk to Jazz about Warbler's eating habits. 

 

 

**000000000000**

 

Night found the Praxian in his room, slumped over the small desk he had smuggled in, much to Jazz's disapproval, as he promised himself only five minutes of rest before he started working. He thanked Primus for the blessed tranquility. If he had known that giving Warbler some paper, cardboard and paint was enough to keep him quiet he'd have done it right after his mate had left.

_'Finally, peace.'_  

"Carrier! Carrier!" 

Jazz always said he jinxed himself. 

"What?" Prowl responded with an exasperated sigh not bothering to lift his head from the suddenly very comfortable datapad his head was resting on. He didn't mean it, he really didn't mean to sound so mean; but he was just so tired and these reports needed to be done even if he really really didn't want to; along with double checking inventory, calling Optimus with an update of, well, _everything_ , see to-

"Carrier! Carrier! Come look!" Called the youngling eagerly from the living room. 

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming!" Prowl yelled back, doorwings lifting into the 'V' position in frustration as he pushed himself off the desk and stomped out of his room, only to freeze at the sight that greeted him. 

The tactician couldn't decide what should shock him the most; was it how the _entire_ room seemed to be victim of some sort of redecoration? Different colors of paint had been placed on almost every furniture. The walls had noticeable droplets, almost as if the brush had been swung in their direction; the coffee table was a _mess_ , its surface littered with glue, paint, paper, cardboard, and brushes. Thank Primus there were no carpets on the floor, though, they might as well pretend they had one now. A very... colorful one. 

Or maybe he should be shocked by the sight of his youngling, standing in front of the mess seemingly proud, his silver paintjob had been covered with sloppy splashes of black and white, two large pieces of cardboard protruding from his back, and something, he was not sure what it was supposed to be, stuck on his forehead. 

Prowl's frame shook with fury, the day's events as well as the entire week's chaos finally catching up to him. He couldn't deal with this. Not now, not when he had dozens of reports to do and now, clean the mess up and wash his youngling. Again. 

So much had gone wrong today, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to get a thing right, and he was exhausted. All he wanted was some rest! He snapped. 

"What did you do!?" He screamed. "Why have you made such a mess Warbler when I explicitly told you to behave and _not_ make a mess!? I am busy Warbler, I can't be monitoring you every second! You have to learn to be responsible! I can't deal with you right now! I have too much stuff to do to be cleaning up after your mess! Why does everyone always make my life miserable!? Why can't you just behave!?" With his last, desperate words, his anger turned to utter exhaustion and the damn of repressed emotions he had been containing burst free.  

Falling to his knees, Prowl let out a frustrated cry, servos coming up to cover his optics in shame as sobs raked his body. How could he have yelled at his child like that? He knew he wasn't fit to be a carrier. Primus he felt so unappreciated and abandoned. He wanted Jazz, Primus he wanted his mate! He'd make this all go away. 

Sniffling, Prowl jumped when he felt a small touch on his arm. Tiredly looking to his right, he came face to face with his creation's worried optics, so much like his sire's. 

"Carrier, okay?" He asked softly. He felt bad for having made his carrier angry and then sad. He had never seen his carrier cry before, and it worried him. Where was sire to make it all better!? 

Prowl let out a small self-loathing laugh. Warbler really was like Jazz, always worrying about him even though he had just yelled at him and said some horrible things. Even if the youngling probably didn't understand half of what he had said, his tone had made it clear he was furious at his creation. Primus he didn't deserve his mechs. 

"I'm fine Warbler. I'm sorry I yelled at you." He sighed, placing his servo over the smaller one on his arm. 

"Do.. you like?" He asked then, shyly and a bit wary. 

"Like?" 

Warbler took a few steps back and spread his arms out and now Prowl understood what he meant. He looked again at the paint, the cardboards attached at certain places and sighed. 

"What are you supposed to be?" He asked, his voice drained of any fight.

Warbler frowned, but just as quickly as his disapproval was shown, he smiled brightly, bouncing on the spot. 

"I'm you carrier!"

Prowl's optics widened at the happily spoken words, and he took a closer look at his creation's new appearance. _Now,_  he saw what his youngling had intended for him to see; the two large cardboards protruding from his back were 'doorwings', the piece of cardboard on his forehead was supposed to be a chevron, and the white and black paint was done in his image. 

A mini version of himself. 

"M- me? Why me?" He asked in wonder. He thought Warbler didn't like him, specially after what he had witnessed that day in his office.  

Warbler giggled, and gave him such a _Jazz_ look, one that said 'oh you silly mech'.   

"'Cause Ah wub you!" And he burst into excited clicks and whirls as he spun himself, showing off his new appearance.  

Prowl offlined his optics, a small smile forming on his lips. Still kneeling on the ground, his doorwings shook as strong emotions coursed through him. 

Adoration, pride, fondness, embarrassment, amusement, and love. Pure love for his youngling. 

"Come here." He said after a few seconds of contemplating how lucky he was to have his creation. Sure the day's events had stressed him out, and was in dire need of some decent recharge, but he would take these kind of days anytime, as long as at the end of such days, he could hear his youngling saying those words. Warbler was worth it.  

The mechling didn't waste a second and dove for his carrier's arms and happily returned the strong hug Prowl gave him. 

"Thank you" He whispered; because truly, this was the biggest gift he could receive. The youngling clicked in pride and happiness, tightening his grip as Prowl got up, still holding him to his chest. "I love you too."  

"Really like?" 

Prowl pulled back and smiled at the big, shiny, innocent optics. Bluestreak seemed to have been giving the youngling classes in the puppy-eyes department. 

"I love it Warbler." He said putting his forehead to Warbler's causing the youngling to giggle again.

Prowl stood there for a moment, the day's event gone from his mind, the reports he had to file forgotten, his duty as SIC left aside for this peaceful moment with his creation. 

"Come, lets go to recharge, okay?" 

"Kay." Responded Warbler trying to stifle a yawn, his hard work of the day having taken its toll.   

The tactician left the living room and went to his room with Warbler. 

"Mess? Clean?" Asked worriedly Warbler. 

Prowl thought for a moment. Screw everything, Jazz was coming home later that night, and as soon as Optimus arrived in the morning he would be announcing his very much deserved vacation and there was nothing the Prime could do to stop him. Let him do all the paper work! From this moment on he refused to do _anything_!  

He smirked. 

"Don't worry bitlet, that's what your sire is for."


End file.
